Nothing Lasts Forever But Can We Give This A Try
by Riveted
Summary: She feels like two people a lot.  She'll have these instances where she's a normal teenage girl and then she'll be riding a panting stallion, swinging a shiny blade and decapitating enemy soldiers as she goes.  AU Medieval Faberry. Side Kum, Brittana
1. Prologue

**A/N This story is a little bit different. It deals with femmeslash, unrequited love, past lives, and medieval times. Also Faberry. I do not own glee or any of these characters. If I did faberry would be canon and we would all eat a cake I baked full of rainbows and smiles and everyone would eat and be happy.**

Quinn Fabray is very good at two things: ignoring and pretending. As her white trainers squeak against the hallway floor she stares straight ahead, hands on her hips and a signature smirk on her lips. And all of the students at Mckinley High part for like she's Moses and they're the red sea because of the cheerios outfit. She doesn't let a flicker of unnecessary emotion affect her features, but when she sees Rachel Berry pulling books into her backpack, she pauses. She almost has to because those rich chocolate eyes make contact with her own and there is something so powerful and strong that connects them in that moment that turning away and brushing it off is simply not an option. Suddenly she hears the familiar whooshing in her ears and she begins to get tunnel vision. Swallowing sharply, she turns away and tries not to increase her pace too noticeably as she walks to the restroom, head still held arrogantly high. However, when she's in the tiled room that smells of cigarette smoke smothered by sickly perfume and toilet water she backs against the pale white wall next to the sink and nearly sinks to the floor.

Quinn Fabray _used_ to be good at two things: riding horseback into a battle full of groaning men and bloody corpses, and being a chivalrous and gallant knight. Not in this life of course. No, cheerio Quinn Fabray never has touched a horse nor has she ever touched a sword. But the girl sometimes (_always_) has these memories, flashbacks, of a time much simpler than 21st century Lima, Ohio and much crueler than the catty high school of Mckinley. She feels like two people a lot. She'll have these instances where she's a normal teenage girl worried about her popularity and her everyday drama and then she'll be riding a panting stallion down a bloody hillside, swinging a shiny blade and decapitating enemy soldiers as she goes. A fierce warrior. And Quinn _hates_ it. Hates that after having such a vivid and violent memory she's on the floor, eyes hazy and fists shaking. Half of her thinks she's crazy. The other half thinks she's incredibly unlucky. She almost sympathizes with this warrior who is born again into a rigid Christian family. But then she resents her (it's not Quinn, she reasons, it's that warrior, they're clearly not the same person). If it were just snippets of intense battles and tournaments Quinn might actually enjoy it a little like it's a free period drama with no anachronisms and shoddy acting, but it's not just good old blood and gore. There are memories of love and loss, affairs and betrayal, death and birth. And they all center and gravitate around one person.

"Are you okay?" asks a soft voice. The girl clenches her teeth and fully slides to the floor, ignoring the too cool and slightly wet tile that tickles her thighs.

"What. Is. It. Berry?" she chokes out slowly, trying to keep her breathing even. She can't have an episode here right in front of Rachel. Especially since-

All thoughts stop when she feels a warm hand touch her arm. Quinn jerks in surprise and her eyes snap open, an action she regrets almost instantly. Because she's staring into those eyes from a thousand years ago. Eyes full of compassion. Eyes full of intelligence. Eyes full of . . . love. She grits her teeth but she cannot look away. She's resisted everything that the other Quinn is attracted to and likes. But, it's like this girl has a leash on Quinn's heart and she doesn't even need to tug to get her attention. And Quinn's past (life, reincarnation, _whatever_) forces her to listen to the sound of Rachel's eyes, become fluent in its delicate and intricate language. And right now Rachel's eyes say _Look at me_. So Quinn does.

"I have a name you know," she murmurs softly in gentle amusement, a small smile on her face.

"I know." Quinn swallows and feels the tightness in her chest lessen and the pounding in her ears dull to a gentle rhythmic throb. She can look away now but she doesn't.

"Even though we're freshman and it's not even our first week here you already have the school at your feet. I'm not surprised though. You were always _so_ charismatic." The tone in Rachel's voice is no longer the eager dramatic youthful fourteen year old girl. This voice is a woman who has lived, observed, and experienced things. It's the owner of the leash tugging at her heart with a careless flick of her wrist.

"You know that I wish I wasn't," she whispers softly, the words edged in a deep aching pain. When she feels the familiar warm hand stroke her cheek she forgets herself for a brief moment and leans into the touch. She feels like a prize horse being rewarded by it's owner. That's all she ever was to Rachel. A pet. A trophy.

"Why do you run from me when we both know you don't want to?" Quinn turns and looks into the soft eyes. For a fleeting moment she wants to lean in and kiss her. A thousand years is a long time, isn't it? It's so tempting and her lips look so soft and enticing. But then she reminds herself with a quick pinch to the thigh that whatever the hell this is, it has nothing to do with herself. This is the other Quinn's troubled and tumultuous past. Not hers. She does not have to deal with Rachel Berry. High school will be just like middle school and primary school. Cool indifference mixed with uncontrolled glances and unintentional meaningful looks.

Quinn pulls away from Rachel's hand and shakily gets to her feet.

"Stop it. Please. I-I want whatever this connection we have," Quinn gestures emphatically between the two of them, "to stop. It's crazy and it's not even us."

Rachel sighs and places her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing.

"So we both have memories that match each others and we can't explain them. I've been telling you for years Quinn, it's destiny!" Her sharp frustrated voice echoes sickeningly in the stalls, reverberating all too familiarly like a throne room full of irate knights and dissatisfied peasants.

"So you want this to end the same way as it did for the old Quinn and Rachel?" snarls Quinn, hazel eyes blazing. She takes a threatening step toward the shorter girl, unintentionally pushing her up against a bathroom stall. The only sound now is the echoing of other high schoolers leaving campus and their labored breaths.

"Have you ever thought that this our second chance? To make things right. If it worked for Brittany and Santana-"

"But they don't remember anything! Have you thought that the reason we remember is so that we don't make the same mistake? So that we don't . . . fall for each other again." Rachel is silent for a moment, her eyes sliding from Quinn's face to her own penny loafers. Quinn looks down too and their foreheads are almost touching.

"I don't know. But you can't deny that you feel something, Quinn. That events and things happened that tie us together. That fate-"

"I hate fate!" shouted Quinn, slamming a fist loudly against the stall and ignoring the immediate pain in her hand. "Don't you get it Rachel?" They lock eyes again and she can't deny the palpable tension that is so thick in the thin sliver of air between them. She is so close that she can feel the warmth of each breath Rachel gives.

"I've been trying to avoid anything and everything that will make me end up like her. I don't want to be anything like that Quinn from . . . back then. And if that means I ignore whatever the hell this is, then so be it."

She expects Rachel to storm out, infuriated by Quinn's stubbornness or frustrated by her failed conviction. Instead she reaches upward and places her hand on top of Quinn's, caressing it. They stand there for a long moment, both relishing the contact but wanting so much more. And then Rachel slips away, pausing before the restroom door.

"You remember everything. I remember everything. If you're too much of a coward to act on what we have and had then so be it." Those words hurt more than any stab to the gut or throw from a charging horse. She stands there for awhile, staring at the beige stall in front of her. This was their first time that they had openly talked about _them_. The memories. But Quinn had a feeling that it would be the last time.

"It's good," she growls angrily. "This makes it way easier. No more pestering from Rachel." She nods her head a few more times sternly for good measure. _Her_ name is Quinn Fabray. She is born in Lima, Ohio. She's a freshman cheerio at William Mckinley High School. Not some crazy girl who thinks she's a knight in some past life.

But as she finally turns to leave for Cheerios practice half an hour late she collapses to the floor, her cheek hitting the frigid tile of the restroom. Her eyes go in and out of focus and there's the distinct and familiar whooshing in her ears akin to sticking her head out a car window. She tries to fight it. She doesn't want to succumb to the memories and the emotions. She just wants to go be a cheerleader and try not to get killed as Sue Sylvester lactates with rage as her Cheerios screw up their routine. Instead Quinn's eyes are fluttering close and she feels herself begin to float like she's drifting on a cloud.

_"Oh knight."_

_"Princess."_

_"Do you love me?"_

_"Of course."_

_"Saying you love someone is one thing but how long does that last for? You could be fickle and-"_

_"Forever. I will love you forever even after I die. I will go on loving you for a thousand years when my body is nothing but dust and this kingdom has been destroyed by time. That is my eternal promise to you."_

_"Oh Quinn."_

_Don't make promises you can't make you idiot. Because it all just goes down hill from here. Your "eternal love"? It's not so eternal after all. She screws you over too. Hell you both just screw each other over. Because there is no such thing as eternal love. There isn't such a thing as eternal anything._


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N Most of this story is a flashback of Rachel and Quinn's previous life. It alternates from Quinn and Rachel's point of view with Quinn giving snarky commentary in italics. Enjoy!**

Quinn stuffed her hands in her arm pits and shivered violently as the late autumn chill settled into the evening. She was definitely not suited for the cold weather wearing a ragged dress that was the color of soot and grime. She leaned backward and pressed her quivering frame against the bumpy stone bridge. The others would return soon and hopefully bring with them some bread and an extra blanket or two. The thought of food encouraged her and she stood, briskly moving about and sorting the stolen woolen blankets that littered the muddy ground.

Suddenly the titters of laughter and deep chuckles filled her ears and she knew that the boys were there. She glanced over her shoulder and grinned as the four boys scrambled under the bridge, their faces bright and jovial. Her gaze flitted from the two taller boys, Daniel and Arthur, to the somber and pallid boy dragging his feet, Harold, to the mischievous and smirking boy, Noah. Quickly she composed her face to resemble an irritated housewife, planting her hands on her hips and scowling angrily.

"Where have you boys been?" she growled, raising her eyebrows high up her forehead. Daniel and Arthur just rolled their eyes and Harold weakly tossed a burlap potato sack in her direction. Golden bread peeked from the rough fabric.

"But that's not all, Quinn," Puck whispered, brown eyes gleaming mischievously. He glanced uncertainly at the other three boys who had pulled pieces of bread from the bag and were warming up by the small fire. He swallowed and jerked his head to the right, standing as he did so. Without a word Quinn followed him from the hiding spot, ignoring the irritated questions from the other boys.

When Quinn was four her wealthy parents had tragically died in a fire, forcing her to be sent to the only place that accepted poor homeless girls: a nunnery. Unfortunately being a nun and living in a cloister for the rest of her days wasn't appealing to her even at such a young age. So when a scrawny beggar boy named Noah had snuck inside a confessional and traded her silence for a way out of the nunnery she never went back. Times had been difficult and running around the streets, stealing, and lying could be absolutely loathsome, yet she still lived that life for four years.

Quinn frowned as Noah tugged on her hand, pulling her to the side of the road.

"When we were stealing the bread at the bakers I heard something important, Quinn!" She rolled her eyes impatiently and gestured with her hand for Noah to continue despite the pounding of her heart in her chest. Noah's brown eyes seemed to glow from utter excitement, the happiest a poor beggar boy in raggedy clothes could ever be.

"Well?"

"A lord by the name of Schuester is looking for young boys to train as pages! And pages become squires which become knights!" hissed Noah, mouth so wide from his smile that Quinn winced.

The girl sighed and rolled her eyes, trying to hide her disappointment. Noah had always wanted to be a knight. Whenever a man rode by with gleaming silver armor the boy had stopped whatever he was doing and stared with mouth agape. When he left to train as a page who would be there to talk to her late at night about nothing and everything? Who would be there to star gaze with her? Biting her lip she abruptly turned from the boy's smiling and ecstatic face, tears brimming in her hazel eyes.

"S-so what?" she choked out, trying to fight out a sob. "Knights are just stupid gallant oafs anyway."

She steeled her shoulders, preparing to walk back to the bridge when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Pausing she frowned and examined Noah's smirking face, eyes glittering in amusement.

"You actually thought I would leave you. Silly. We've been partners since you didn't tell that nun about me hiding in the confessional." Quinn weakly smiled in return.

"However . . . I'm not gonna ever leave you Quinn but we need to talk about some . . . changes."

She frowned at the word, shrugging off Noah's hand.

"What do you mean?"

Noah grimaced and picked at the dirt path with his foot.

"Well," he drawled, not taking his eyes from his big grimy toe, "for starters I said young boys. No offense but you don't look like a boy, Quinn." The girl sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, arching one eyebrow higher than the other in exasperation. Noah briefly made eye contact before glancing away, blushing.

"I-I can find you a shirt and some trousers. We can cut your hair too, the butcher owes me a favor so I can borrow his scissors, and-"

"Wait. Why would I want to do that? Acting like a boy is unladylike." Quinn scowled and fingered her shoulder length blond curls.

"Quinn, this our chance to become something better than beggars and thieves. People like Arthur, Harold, and Dan aren't gonna be anybody in ten years. But a knight will. A knight will be saving people and traveling all over the land and fighting. We could be brave." Even though he was only seven, Noah was already developing his habit of rousing and compelling speeches, Quinn his first victim. However Quinn could have said no. But she knew that if she said no Noah wouldn't have left her. And he would resent her for the rest of his life if he missed that opportunity, intentional or not. Plus he was her only friend in the world, how could she let him down like that? Hesitantly she swallowed and nodded her head. When he let out a loud whoop of joy and hugged her tightly to his chest she couldn't help but smile.

_Oh god . . . you think this is going to end well Quinn? Do you really think being a knight will solve all your problems? Heh . . . It's the exact opposite._

Rachel sighed and rested her chin in her hand as she stared outside the window, eyes tracing the faint line of the horizon with longing. The sounds of sewing and quiet whispers and giggles irritated her to no end. Was this the life she was committed to? Forever hearing the unimportant observations of a new tryst or a knight's not so secret affair with a prostitute? She sighed again, playing with the sleeve of her blue velvet gown.

"Princess," came the tired voice of her mother, the queen. "Come here and finish your embroidering. A good wife and lady must-"

"Always know how to sew," finished Rachel, sullenly rising from her window seat and dragging her feet as she stood to her mother's side. The woman's eyes sparkled in amusement and she chuckled, causing the other ladies in waiting to join in whole heartedly.

Rachel pouted and plucked her needle and thread from it's spot next to her mother's chair and reluctantly sewed. Her tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth as she tried not to prick her finger again.

"Have you heard, my queen, of the new pages that are soon to come to the castle of my Lord Schuester in a few days?" inquired a woman with golden hair and a conceited mouth. Rachel noticed her mother's grip on the sewing needle tighten as she faked a smile.

"Is that so, Lady Schuester? Odd since I haven't heard of any noble sons being sent as pages to your husband's castle."

Lady Schuester's eyes brightened fervently, happy to be able to tell the queen something she did not know.

"You know how my husband is, my queen. Such a dreamer. He thinks that letting poor and commoner boys become pages will be a good mission that will abolish social norms or something like that."

Rachel smiled slightly at the thought but bit her lip just in case Lady Schuester took that as a sign that she was interested in the direction of the conversation.

"Will there be any qualifications for this?" inquired the doe eyed Lady Pillsbury.

Lady Schuester sent the young woman a scathing glare before turning to eagerly face the queen.

"There will be a few questions but nothing too serious. He just wants to see if this experiment will work. I personally think it's foolish to have ill-prepared and filthy little boys running around the castle but whatever do I know? If those boys survive the training perhaps we'll have a squire or two or even a knight." Her eyes glowed as a dreamy haze masked her previous excited expression. Rachel thought the woman was fantasizing about the handsome knight to be in her mind's eye.

Although she was thankful that another lady had started speaking about her nephew and his handsome looks Rachel's mind wandered. For a brief moment she pondered what it would be like to meet a knight that would sweep her off her feet. He would be a chivalrous and courteous gentleman and gallant hero. That thought elicited a soft longing sigh from her lips.


End file.
